


Beans

by yeaka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22177189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Gavin tries to get coffee.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 106





	Beans

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Detroit: Become Human or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Gavin’s not awake before his coffee. He craves it like his last bust craved red ice. He’s not going to waste the time making a pit stop before work, because he can get it at the office for free, but even that takes too long. Sometimes he fantasizes about having a well trained personal android make a cup first thing in the morning and put it right by his bed, but then he pictures Connor’s pretty face and he remembers why he hates the damn things. Not worth it. He’s a functioning human being, capable of doing his job a thousand times better than any plastic prick, and he can get his own coffee. 

He grunts something vaguely resembling ‘hi’ to Miller and heads straight for the break room. Except there’s a tall, slender brunet in the way of his caffeine. Connor turns around with a steaming white mug in his hands that smells _delicious_. Gavin’s stopped right up in his space, leaving little room to get out. Connor acts like that’s not a problem and smoothly greets, “Good morning, Detective.”

Gavin skips the pleasantries and jumps right to: “What the fuck are you doing?”

Connor quirks one perfectly trimmed brow as though Gavin’s an idiot. “Fetching coffee.” He doesn’t add: _obviously_ , but it’s there in his tone. 

_Its_ tone. Sometimes Gavin has to forcibly remind himself that he’s deal with a glorified sex doll and not something _real_ with a gender or value. That’s the problem with having Connor around too much. He’s around _way_ too much. _It’s_ around. Gavin needs coffee. 

He squints and accuses, “You don’t drink coffee.”

“Very astute, Detective.”

If there weren’t a risk of spilling hot coffee on himself, Gavin would punch Connor out. Instead, Gavin just growls and reaches out for what’s rightfully _his_.

Connor deftly steps back, flattening back against the counter to dodge him. Connor tells him, “This is for Lieutenant Anderson.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

“You are excused.”

Gavin’s _fuming._ “You wouldn’t make me coffee, you plastic piece of shit!”

“No,” Connor agrees, “I wouldn’t.” Gavin could _swear_ he’s smirking. 

Somewhere behind them, Anderson calls out, “Connor!”

Connor sweetly chimes, “Coming, Lieutenant!”

He pauses just long enough to give Gavin a helpless shrug, as though to apologize for their moment coming to an end. Transferring the mug to his right hand, Connor squeezes past Gavin, his left shoulder nudging Gavin’s out of the way. 

Gavin’s practically seeing red. He’s seriously about to commit homicide in a police station. Except it’s not homicide to smash up a walking toaster. 

He spins on his heel and marches after the smug bastard who just sassed him, only to falter when Captain Fowler crosses his path. The captain pauses to bark, “Reed, you got a minute?”

Gavin looks over Fowler’s shoulder at Connor gracefully arching over Anderson’s desk, delivering the mug right into Anderson’s waiting hands. Gavin feels like he’s breathing smoke out of his nostrils. Without waiting for an answer, Fowler tells him, “Go get coffee for the rest of us—just heard Hank got the last cup.” Then Fowler marches off to his office, leaving Gavin there gaping. 

Connor’s looking right at him and _smiling_.

Gavin goes out to his car to scream.


End file.
